the young man
by baka bakashi
Summary: I had come in gratitude for what had happened in the bar. In plays, they say that ‘A rain of blood fell’ on tragic scenes but… this young man… he really did make it rain blood.


Disclaimer - i do not own RK, if i did Kenshin and Tomoe would forever live in internal happiness. mwahaha....

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I look to the sky. The sun hasn't quite set, but the ominous clouds make the sky dark. The storm will set in soon. I look across the road and see a small bar, the dim lights from the windows and doorway strangely comforting.

I look once more to the sky. The bar seems very comforting.

As soon as I step inside, I wished I hadn't. The smell of sake hits me hard as the rowdy cry of some men on the other side of the room. I look to where the maid is walking from to greet me; her 'Irrasshaimase' is barely audible above the commotion. Following her to my seat, I look at the young man sitting by himself.

His flame-coloured hair hangs limply from its tie down his back, his eyes are closed and covered by his locks. His cheek is marred by an odious cut that runs down – it is still wet. His katana rests against the table he sits at, his wakazashi still hangs by his side. He is very still, lost in thought. He looks so young to be involved with the war. He shouldn't have to face such asperity.

I sit behind him, lean my umbrella by my side, and order my drink. I look at my hands, which are starting to go cold. I wrap them up in my shawl and place them between my legs. I think about why I am here. I came to find the one who killed my happiness, to see the face of the one who destroyed my life. What will I do when I find him? The very thought of me extracting revenge myself is laughable, and Tatsumi-san said not to try anything myself.

But when I find him and place myself where he resides, what can I do to protect myself from him? I have heard Sumita-san and Nakajou-san talk about the demon that has slain so many that his hair has been stained the colour of blood, who shows no mercy to even woman and children. He is a bloodthirsty monster – who says he won't kill me?

I look up as the maid returns with my chilled sake. I thank her and pour myself a drink. Raising the cup to my lips, I feel the cold liquid course its way down my throat, the alcohol burning softly.

I hear sounds of approval from the intoxicated men as they watch me drink myself to shame. I hear two of them coming over to me, their swaggering steps covering the distance quickly. I listen to their drunken requisition. Placing my mask of indifference on, I look up at them.

I watch as they proclaim their greatness by being Aizu patriots who risk their lives for the 'common people', who are actually on the side of the Bakufu. I hear someone voice my thoughts, and watch as the men react poorly.

I hear a soft, cold voice behind me comment to the men's remarks. I watch one move to draw his sword, but is stopped by the flame-haired man. I watch his blazing eyes as he tells the men to go home to the countryside. I hear the bar resonate with agreement as the men leave, defeated. I watch the young man pay for his drink, apologise to the manager, and go.

I think over what I have just seen. The man who I thought to be too young for such a bloodstained setting seemed to embody the darkness just with his words and his eyes. His flame-coloured hair now seems to run with blood in my mind. But would a demon stand up for a woman who is drinking by herself? Surely that man could not be...? I cannot think straight – I have already drunken much tonight, and I decide to leave. I want to thank the young man for what he had done – such an action does not come from a monster.

I soon follow in the footsteps of the roughnecks and the man out of the bar and onto the street. The clouds have begun to seep their blood onto the world. I open up my umbrella and step forward into the darkness.

I hear a scream cut through the heavy air, and pull my shawl closer around me. I cannot fight the feeling of misgiving creeping over my body. I force myself to keep moving, towards the clashing of swords that now ring out.

I step into the side street that leads to the sounds of violence. As I reach the opening of the road, I wonder if I am near where my happiness found its end. Peering around the corner, I see a dance in progress further down the road. A man dressed in shadows is jumping to a roof. The man from the bar is standing on the ground, a chain wrapping around him. I watch as he struggles against his bonds, his bloody hair swaying with his efforts. Slowly, I approach him, my body shaking. I draw my shawl around me, as if it was the cold that chilled me.

I am transfixed by the young man before me. Even though the chain seems to be crushing his small body, no sign of pain crosses his face. Through the haze that cloaks my eyes I see his hand reaching out for a sword standing in the ground near him. The man on the roof must think that his opponent is weakening, as I see that he lets his chain slacken before he takes to the air.

In that instant the young man's hand whips out to the sword in the ground, and rips it out. I watch in amazement as he turns around and faces the other man who flies towards him. I horror I watch as he lifts the sword into the flight path of the other. The blade cuts right through its old master without hesitation, from head to foot. The blood springs forth from the body, mixing with the falling rain. I am unable to flinch as I feel the heavy drops his my face, as I am still transfixed.

The young man faces away from me, knee to the ground. He breathes in shallow breaths, both hands still gripping swords. As I approach, I feel him stiffen, now aware of me. I watch him slowly stand up, slowly turn to face me. His hair drips water into his eyes, the cut on his face bleeds freely.

I had come in gratitude for what had happened in the bar. In plays, they say that 'A rain of blood fell' on tragic scenes but... this young man... he really did make it rain blood.

I see the turmoil in his eyes, eyes that waver between blazing gold and dull grey. I watch the chained sword fall from his hands, the grip on the other tighten. I reach out to him, the pain on his face upsetting me. The sake has finally won its battle over me, and everything dims. I pitch forward. As I fall, I hear movement, and I land in the arms of the young man. I am now at the mercy of a monster.

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random fact - this story has the same name as my film project i'm doing for yr 12! except that they have basolutely nothing in common, and the film is actually in german, so it's called 'der jugen mann' or something like that...


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